


Tea and Biscuits

by tornyourdress



Category: Have I Got News For You RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:41:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24456847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tornyourdress/pseuds/tornyourdress
Summary: Paul's on a break from the show, but he still catches up with Ian.
Relationships: Ian Hislop/Paul Merton
Kudos: 7





	Tea and Biscuits

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Sarah (morganmuffle) & Jen (Jekesta) as part of the HIGNFY ficfest 2004. Set during 1996; the 11th series, when Paul took a break from the show.

“So. How’s it going?”

The café is quiet this late at night, mostly because there is a pub right next door and most people’s beverage of choice for a Saturday night tends to have alcohol in it. Every so often a few of the pub’s customers will stumble in and order coffee in a futile attempt to sober themselves up before returning home, but none of them bother to venture down to any of the tables at the very back, where it is cosy and warm, a shelter from the outside world. 

Ian isn’t sure what to say to this. How is it going, exactly? 

“Okay,” he finally responds, mentally congratulating himself on his sparkling conversational skills. 

“Miss me?” Paul is smirking, as though he already knows the answer.

“Nah. We have intelligent people on the show now, makes a change.”

“You had Piers Morgan on last week,” Paul reminds him. 

Ian is forced to eat his words. “Yeah,” he says. “That was a unique experience.”

“Worst guest ever?”

“He’s definitely in the running. Was funny, though. _Jam_. What an idiot.”

“I got the impression you’d done something to offend him. You didn’t reject his advances, did you?”

“He didn’t make any, Paul, not everyone is as bad as you, you know.”

“I could be offended by that.”

“Are you?”

“Could be.”

Ian rolls his eyes, knowing perfectly well that Paul isn’t. “Are you having that biscuit?”

“Might be.”

This could go on for a while. He looks at Paul’s biscuit, almost tasting the sugar on his tongue, and drinks what’s left of his tea instead. He examines the tea-pot beside him. Enough left for one more cup, and he manages to pour it without spilling any, which is a rare event when dealing with tea-pots; they seem to be designed so that some of it always dribbles down onto the table, no matter how carefully they are tilted.

“It’s not the same without you,” he says without really meaning to. He knows Paul knows this; he just didn’t want to have to admit it quite so soon. 

“You’re just saying that because you want the biscuit,” Paul replies. “Well, you’re not getting it.”

“I can’t believe you saw through my fiendish plot.” He takes his first gulp of tea from this cup. It’s a little stronger than he’d like, but still perfectly drinkable.

Paul breaks the biscuit in half. “Do you really miss me?” he wants to know.

Ian wonders if this is a power game, or an ego-boost, or just plain curiosity. He nods. 

Paul hands over half the biscuit. “I’m glad to hear it,” he says.

They order another pot of tea. The café stays open late, and neither of them have any intention of leaving before they have to.


End file.
